Dabbling in Drabbles
by Crystal Wing on Fragile String
Summary: Just a cute little collection of johnlock oneshots. Mostly fluff. That's all. R&R and pay attention to author's notes please.
1. Sleep

**A/N, please read:**

**Sorry if you follow me from Legend of Korra, it's been awhile. I just got soooo hooked on Sherlock (as in, the 3 days leading up to finals I was up past midnight watching all the episodes) and wanted to branch out, you know? I'll be back, pinky-swear.**

**I've wanted to put up more stories, but for some reason my creative writing course is not very inspiring. I'm not a huge poetry/narrative fan. What can I say? Don't worry though, we start short stories on Monday, and my CW buds are super cool so we might toss around some ideas.**

**Disclaimer: If I just watched all the Sherlocks earlier this month, how could I have created it.**

**NOTE: This is my first Sherlock fic, I love johnlock with a fiery passion, not britpicked, not betad, I love criticism, flames will be used in experiments involving different burnt wood ashes, and reviews take me to my happy room in my mind cave. Don't judge my choices. And yes, caves can have rooms.**

"How did you sleep last night, John?" Sherlock asked with a bright smile.  
"Miserably, you?"  
"It was fine. Best I've slept in months, actually."  
"Really?" John muttered. "Because I seem to recall hearing violin at 3 AM."  
"Well of course! When else am I supposed to play? Tea?" Sherlock asked, pouring them both a cup.  
John glared at his surprisingly stupid genius flat mate. "I don't want the bloody tea, I want sleep! Why can't you play during the day?"  
Sherlock frowned. "You're always at work during the day. I thought that if I played really early you'd finally be able to listen to the song I wrote you."  
"Why on earth did you thi- wait, what?"  
"Pay attention John. I wrote you a song."  
"Why?"  
"Isn't it obvious? I thought I taught you to observe John."  
"Don't be so bloody mysterious, just tell me!"  
"I wrote the song to express my love for you and how much I wish you'd stay with me instead of leaving me."  
"And you thought the best time to show me your love was at 3 AM?"  
"Naturally."  
"Oh God. I love you too, you bloody idiot."

**REVIEW YOU LOVELIES! MORE DRABBLES COMING SOON!**


	2. Text

**Guess who's back?**

**Oh God, yes.**

**I spent the last two days making little Sherlock drawings and quote drawings (redundant…) for my friend who is spending the next month TECHNOLOGY-LESS at camp. She also asked me to send her some fanfics. Naturally, the theme is johnlock, preferably fluffy and not rated M (it's a religious camp and if they caught her with that…).**

**WARNING: This fic contains mentions of the Purple Shirt of Sex. If you for some reason don't know what that is, Google Images is your new best friend.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.**

John -SH  
John -SH  
John I need you -SH  
_Sherlock, I'm on a date for God's sake!_  
John I need your help! -SH  
John, I mean it! -SH  
It's dangerous -SH  
There might be serious consequences if you don't get here soon -SH  
I'm in the kitchen -SH  
I'm trying out some of your recipes. You never told me how precise this cooking thing actually needs to be. Interesting. -SH  
_I'll be there in ten. Evacuate Mrs Hudson and leave her in charge of your purple shirt.__  
_Why my purple shirt John? That doesn't make sense. Why not something of more value, like our case files? -SH  
_Less texting, more evacuating!_

**I love reviews more than John loves jam and the purple shirt COMBINED!**


	3. Handcuffs

**MWAHAHAHAHA I like this.**

**IMPORTANT: I'm going on vacation next week to Mall of America. Exciting, I know. I'll be the one unashamedly wearing Ed Sheeran shirts and dalek socks, because 'murica. Anywho, since I've been making a point of uploading a new drabble each weekend (thurs/fri counted because of creative writing, but that's over.) I'm putting up two chapters today. You're welcome.**

**Also, for creative writing we had to take the end of a script for a TV show and change it. Naturally, I used The Great Game. I wrote out the last half an hour, and then changed the last 10 minutes or so. Would you like me to post it when I get back? Leave a review!**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned this, I'd constantly put myself in a little johnlock sandwich between Benedict and Martin because GAH! Cute! Martin looks so cuddly. I hope he reads this XD**

**Oh, right, story…**

"John, how do you feel about handcuffs?"  
The poor doctor nearly spit out his freshly brewed tea. "What?"  
Sherlock frowned. "Don't be stupid John, you heard me. What are your opinions on handcuffs?"  
John swallowed hard and felt his face flush. "Well I don't like the bruises they leave on wrists, but I suppose if they're loose enough they can be alright?"  
"Why do you phrase that as a question? It's your opinion," Sherlock pointed out. "And I don't think they should be too loose, the criminal could escape. Aren't a few bruises worth keeping them in custody?"  
John coughed as if choking. "You meant handcuffs for criminals?"  
"Of course, there's a huge controversy in the news since criminals have started suing for handcuff related injuries. What were you ta-oh."  
Just when he thought it wasn't possible, John's face grew even redder until it resembled a ripe tomato.  
Sherlock observed this and grinned slyly. "Though your point of view on the subject of handcuffs brings to mind an idea for a new experiment." His smile grew wider as he watched John subconsciously fiddle with his jumper, as if the room had suddenly become too hot. He pulled out a pair he had swiped from Lestrade. "Care to be my test subject?"


	4. Crime Scene Etiquette

**And… second story! DFTRP (Don't Forget To Review Please. Not as catchy as DFTBA but…)**

**Still don't own anything (it's why I cry myself to sleep) and still not beta'd or brit-picked.**

"Stop it! You can't propose at a crime scene!"  
"It's not like there are any bodies here, it's just a burglary!"  
John felt a headache coming on. "That's not the point Sherlock."  
"What is it then? You're not afraid of committing to me, you keep saying at this point nothing I did could scare you off short of murder. You love me, you make that much clear as often as you can-"  
A few of the Yarders had the decency to blush before exchanging the pounds they had wagered with each other.  
"-I purposely proposed somewhere lacking in blood and body parts, so it can't be that."  
"The timing Sherlock. There might not be anything gory but it's still a crime scene."  
"Oh. Bit not good then?"  
"Yeah, bit not good. 'Specially since I was going to propose when we got back home."  
John pulled out a ring box from his pocket. "You just had to beat me to it."  
The two locked eyes for a solid five seconds before both collapsing into a fit of tearful giggles.  
"Stop it Sherlock, you can't giggle, it's a proposal!"  
"Hypocrite!"  
The Yarders were confused, but continued the exchange of money.  
"You know," Sherlock gasped out between laughs, "There are body parts and blood in the flat. I actually chose the better time in this situation."  
This only made the two men laugh even harder.  
"Um, not to ruin the mood or anything," Lestrade burst out. "But would you two please say yes already and get back to the case."  
John started to apologize but Sherlock cut him off.  
"Sorry Detective Inspector, but you are stuck with your incompetent officers for this one. John and I have just proposed to each other, and we are going home to celebrate appropriately."  
And with that, Sherlock grabbed John's hand and dragged him to the nearest available cab.  
"Quit staring and get to work you lot! It's still a crime scene!" Yelled a grumpy Lestrade.


	5. Great Game Script

**FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKMOTHERFUCKINGFUCK.**

**Afterwarning: Sometimes I swear like a sailor with Tourettes. This is easier to hide when it's not irl, but sometimes I just gotta, you know?**

**Sorry, I just have been dealing with this crazy guilt because I got home early yesterday and, instead of posting this, had a Danny Phantom marathon. I know I already updated for this week but still. GAH!**

**While Teen Titans bingeing the other day (I know, I'm the world's oldest ten year old) I wrote some stories. Yeah. If you also are children at heart (or actual children in which case sorry about my potty mouth, but it's the internet so I thought you probably wouldn't care) feel free to check those out. **

**I cut out most of the script that wasn't original since it was super long (last half an hour of Sherlock). Otherwise, you guys are getting exactly what I turned in to my Creative Writing teacher. This takes place during The Great Game while they are at Joe's house after he confesses to killing Westie.**

**Disclaimer: I wrote this in a Creative Writing class. I think that tells you everything.**

JOHN: Do you still have it, then, the memory stick?

(Joe nods.)

SHERLOCK: Fetch it for me – if you wouldn't mind.

(Sighing unhappily, Joe stands up and walks into another room. Sherlock walks closer to John.)

SHERLOCK (quietly): Distraction over, the game continues.

JOHN: Well, maybe that's over, too. We've heard nothing from the bomber.

(my own script starts)

(A gunshot is heard and the boys rush to the other room to see Joe's dead body on the floor with a gun in his hand. Blood starts to pool under his head.)

SHERLOCK: Ugh, suicide. Boring.

JOHN: Really, with all the excitement we've had lately, you're upset because you don't get another case?

(He shakes his head incredulously as Sherlock bends down next to Joe's body and takes the flash drive out of his hand Sherlock straightens up.)

SHERLOCK: Well, Mycroft will want this. Better give it to him before he threatens us with another case for the British government or knighthood or something.

(He shudders as John laughs. John calls the police as they exit the apartment)

JOHN: Yes, please tell DI Lestrade there has been a suicide… Yes, this location, flat 21A… Thanks.

(A familiar shiny black car pulls up and Mycroft's PA opens the door, not looking up from her phone)

JOHN: Has Mycroft always got the CCTV trained on us?

SHERLOCK: I wouldn't be surprised.

(They climb in the car and it pulls away)

JOHN (to Mycroft's PA): So what is it today?

PA (still texting): What did I use last time?

JOHN: Anthea.

PA: (looks up) I think today I feel like... an Alice. (She resumes texting)

JOHN: Still not your real name then?

ALICE: (chuckles) No.

JOHN: ...Alright. How are you today Alice?

SHERLOCK: John, I'm certain Alice is not interested. You might as well give up now.

JOHN: Not interested in what? I'm just making small talk.

SHERLOCK: (scoffs) Please. You're trying to flirt with her. She's clearly not interested, she's more concerned with texting than dating.

ALICE: (smirking but not looking up from her phone) He's right you know. I'm not interested. I thought I made that clear the last time Mycroft arranged for you to meet with him.

JOHN (exasperated): I'm just making conversation!

SHERLOCK: You straightened up when you saw the car, indicating you wanted to look your best. I know you're not interested in impressing Mycroft, so who? You have had several girlfriends in the last couple months, but you're single now. So, our dear friend Alice.

JOHN (laughing): You know Sherlock, sometimes I'm not sure whether to be impressed or frustrated by you.

ALICE: The way you two talk is adorable. No wonder everyone thinks you're a couple.

JOHN (flustered): W-what? I'm not gay!

ALICE: Come on. Sherlock noticing everything about you, getting jealous of women you show interest in. You always praising him.

(John sputters for a few seconds)

ALICE: It's alright John. We're here.

(John and Sherlock step out of the car)

JOHN: This isn't the Diogenes club.

SHERLOCK (sarcastically): How very observant John.

JOHN (annoyed): Ok Sherlock, where are we?

SHERLOCK: Going by the concrete walls and floor, the ramps, and the out of service gate we passed earlier when you were busy defending your sexuality, I'd say an abandoned car parking garage.

JOHN: This doesn't really seem like Mycroft's style.

(behind them, Alice steps out of the car. It pulls away as she pulls out a gun and points it at the two men)

ALICE: It really isn't.

(Sherlock and John freeze and raise their hands defensively)

SHERLOCK (under his breath): Of course, obvious!

JOHN: I'm sorry, obvious? Have I missed something?

SHERLOCK: Don't be like that John. You miss nearly everything usually. However this time I did too. Mycroft has been texting you, he's getting a root canal, he wouldn't want to talk! Besides, she's practically paid to spy on us, she works for the embodiment of the British government, always texting, lots of time off, and we trusted her even though she basically kidnaps you. Clever.

ALICE: Isn't it though? Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Jane Moriarty.

SHERLOCK: Miss Wenceslas is under the impression that you are a man.

JANE: (snorts) Everybody is! I've got them all fooled! Even you, Mr. Holmes... Well, I did have you fooled. I had no choice but to show you who I am.

SHERLOCK: Every genius needs an audience. It's the hubris of every single one.

JOHN (under his breath): You've got that right...

JANE: (shouts) WRONG! (she lowers her voice) You're so boring Sherlock, really. I had to tell you because, frankly, you're in my way. You keep digging up pieces of my operation. This is a warning to stop.

(She clicks the safety off on the gun)

SHERLOCK: The consulting criminal. Brilliant.

JANE: Yeah, I know. (smiles) I'm the only one in the world. I invented the job.

(she aims the gun at John)

JOHN: Hold on, you said this was a warning to stop messing with your operation. That means you're not going to kill us.

JANE: No. I'm going to kill you, Dr. Watson. It's going to look like a mugging and I know exactly who to frame. That is my warning to Mr. Holmes to stop meddling.

(John slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun. He points it at her and clicks the safety off)

JOHN: And what if I did this? Then what?

JANE: Then, we could see who has the faster trigger finger. Or... (she aims the gun at Sherlock) I could just shoot Sherlock.

(John puts the gun on the floor)

SHERLOCK: Don't be stupid John, shoot her. People have died.

JANE: That's what people DO! (she shouts the last word) And they're going to keep dying. And I'm going to keep profiting. I have enjoyed our little dance boys, but I'm afraid you're just going to have to die today. Can't be helped. (she fake pouts) Any last words? I'm so fond of those.

SHERLOCK: Yes, actually. Vatican cameos.

(Sherlock and John dive down. John grabs the gun he dropped and shoots Jane in the chest. Jane falls back onto the floor, dying.)

JANE: My favorite game and I lost. Pity. Too bad my friends will come for you boys.

SHERLOCK (urgently): Who is coming?

(Jane dies before she can answer)

JOHN: It's not over is it?

SHERLOCK: Far from it. By the way, thanks for that. You know, killing another person for me. Though, I suppose your life was also on the line, which could definitely have been a deciding factor. Anyway, it was good. Thank you.

JOHN: Any time. Now lets get out of here and tell Lestrade he's about to see the crime rate go down tremendously.

(they start down the ramp)

THE END

**It's supposed to have a twist ending. It's also supposed to be true to the characters, so I couldn't just throw in some steamy johnlock. And it had to be school appropriate. Mostly. Review and tell me what you thought, I didn't get a grade from my teacher since this was our last project. Thanks lovelies and DFTBA!**

**(Also, I realize the name changes are confusing. Sorry.)**


	6. Deductions

**So my brother was snooping through my emails (proof to me that there is no benevolent god) and stumbles across my reviews for this story (I never delete them… xD). He discovers my Fanfiction account, then promptly tells our mom. Her only concern, she says, is that I only post appropriate things.**

**Me: Pshh of course. –thinks frantically back to previous chapters-**

**My mom is the kind of person who thinks "shut up" is a swear.**

**Neither my mom nor brother has read my stories though. Phew.**

**ALSO: Guys, reviews are chicken soup for the soul and my main drive that leaves me writing all sorts of shit (can't possibly do worse now) at 1 am instead of continuing to stare at pics of Dan Howell's face and listening to Boston by Augustana until I can sleep. PLEASE REVIEW! I don't want to make little review goals for new chapters, but it means that of the hundreds reading this, someone cares enough to say something.**

**Anyway, on with the story. As always, I own nothing but Shelby the Laptop.**

"You're in love with me. Don't give me that look, I can make deductions too!"  
John had just been making tea when he had turned to Sherlock, slumped on the couch, and shared this revelation. Sherlock, in turn, gave him a look that mixed amusement and shock.  
"Alright then John, amaze me. How did you manage to deduce that?" He asked, propping his head up in his hands. "You can't have taken my pulse without me knowing."  
"Easy. It's in the looks you me after Anderson acts like a class-a asshat, the way you tie your scarf, the aglets of your left shoe laces, and the way you take your tea. All signs point to love Sherlock."  
Sherlock frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. You don't mention what must be my clearly dilated pupils or my obvious attempts at flirting."  
John shrugged. "If we've reached the same conclusion, does it matter how I got there? And what is this 'obvious flirting' nonsense?"  
"Tell that to every math teacher I ever had," Sherlock snorted. "And yes, it should've been obvious! I designated a shelf in the fridge specifically for food! I got you a lucky cat in Chinatown for Christmas! I bloody stole an ashtray from Buckingham Palace!"  
John looked stunned. "Of course," he breathed before walking over to kiss his admirer. "I should've picked up on that. I'm a real idiot sometimes, huh?"  
Sherlock grinned. "I wouldn't have you any other way."  
They stayed like that, John bent over the couch to reach Sherlock's mouth and Sherlock leaned forward and smiling, for a while before the inevitable happened: Sherlock interrupted their moment.  
"You never explained how those random things meant I was in love with you."  
John just smirked. "Oh, they didn't. You weren't arguing though, so I was right."  
Sherlock smacked John's arm and turned away, pouting.  
"Oh, don't be like that Sherlock, I love you too."

**Yay smart!John… kind of. Review please, and DFTBA!**

**(to whoever asked: that means Don't Forget To Be Awesome. Check out the vlogbrothers on Youtube and thank me later ;D)**


	7. Doublestuffed

**Here's a little something for Benedict's birthday (7/19). You're getting so old, you! Much love! Mwah!**

They were pressed against each other, snuggled up on the worn, soft leather of the couch. John could hear Sherlock's even heartbeat.  
_Ba-dum__  
__Ba-dum_  
It was a sweetly simple lullaby made to reassure him of his lovers presence and lull him to sleep.  
John woke to cool lips pressed to his neck, juxtaposing the warm arms that cocooned him.  
He smiled up at Sherlock as he felt his heartbeat pick up; pounding like it did when his teenage self swore he was in love.  
"Happy birthday, love." He murmured.  
And there they spent the rest of the day, needing nothing more than the love the other provided.  
It was, Sherlock decided, his best birthday so far.

**Now for the part Martin would like. Look at me, making this double stuffed like a delicious little Oreo for y'all! **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock or Oreos. Unfortunately.**

"Ooh! Look at the position her body is in John! This might be a serial killer! Yes! Finally, something interesting!" Sherlock was practically bouncing off the walls of the flat the poor girl had been killed in. "It's like Christmas Eve with all this anticipation!"  
John frowned at his over-excited partner. "Sherlock, bit not good. We are at crime scene, remember?"  
"Obviously John, that's why I'm so happy," Sherlock began to do a little dance in place when Anderson walked in.  
"Oi! Will the consulting twelve year old and his mother please remove themselves before they contaminate my crime scene?"  
Sherlock's wide smile wavered for a fraction of a second before returning, looking creepily big for his face and usual attitude. "I'm in such a good mood, not even you could bring me down, Anderson. John, I think this calls for celebration sex, come along!" He grabbed his partner by the wrist, ignoring his weak protests about a woman being dead, and began to race out of the flat. Before letting the door slam behind them though, he turned around and yelled up "We shouldn't try that thing Sgt. Donovan did last night. It appears that Anderson, the most depraved man I've ever seen, didn't enjoy it. Thanks for the tip you two!"  
Anderson stared ferociously at the corpse in front of him.  
"You lucky bitch."

**Review please, they fuel my creativity! Give me prompts! Tell me what you think!**


	8. Sexuality

**So, I showed a friend these and watched her read them once. Most terrifying experience of my life. I just sat there going "Shit, she's laughing. Why is she laughing? I didn't say anything funny yet! What's happening?!" That was a couple chapters ago though, so I don't know if she kept up with these. I won't ask. I also won't ask the other friends I have that are on ff. Like, I post some things that maybe I'd rather keep anonymous but it's too late because they follow me or at least have seen one…**

**That being said, this one was inspired by my life and me trying to figure it out. And also the Queer Dictionary on teenhelp . com. I think that basically tells you everything.**

**Ah, teenage years.**

**As always, I own nothing but the blurbs that pop into my head as I'm on my phone at 1 AM.**

"John, I am asexual." Sherlock randomly blurted.  
We had been cuddling on the sofa and I thought all was well until he said that.  
I looked up at him, confused.  
Seeing my expression, he was quick to assure me, "I just had to say it. I felt like not telling you would by the same as lying."  
I nodded in understanding. "Then you should probably know I'm heterosexual."  
Sherlock responded by burying his head in my shoulder and replying with a deep, muffled voice, "I know. It's all fine John."  
I chuckled and ruffled his chocolate curls. "Okay, when did you deduce me?"  
"I could tell from the moment we met."  
"Oh really? Do elaborate. Did you know by my pants?"  
I could almost feel the heat rushing to Sherlock's face. "You were checking me out at Bart's, but all signs were pointing to straight and sexually active. Naturally, I guessed bisexual, but after a few experiments, I concluded biromantic."  
I snorted in disbelief. "What experiments were those?"  
"Well, I started with a tight-fitting shirt that has been known, through my research, to be quite enticing. Then I started walking around the flat in a sheet. You found me attractive, but not particularly erotic or sexually appealing. However, you contemplated being in a romantic relationship, evident by the constant compliments outside of cases."  
"And here I was, thinking you were just too lazy to put on clothes."  
"Well, there's that."  
And, content that we had everything out in the open, Sherlock wrapped his arms around me and we returned to our comfortably silent snuggle.  
There we stayed until morning.

**So yeah. I like this one. Not packed full of innuendos like some other things I hope my friends maybe don't read (though I guess that wouldn't be TOO different than how we talk already… just with John and Sherlock). It's funny, I can make some super sexual comments (not so much here as irl), but I'm like, the biggest virgin you'll ever meet.**

**Anywhovian, leave a review please. Even if it's just "Um, yeah, labels are for soup cans and I can't help but feel as though at least one of them is above that kind of shit. Also, your Sherlock writing is waaay OOC."**

**I'm at the point of desperation **


	9. Every Single One

**Whoop! Going to Chicago Comic Con next week while I'm in the area!**

**I get to maybe see James and Oliver Phelps, John Barrowman, and Craig Benzine. And if magic happens and I end up seeing Tara Strong…**

**Well. I probably won't see any of them, but it's the experience, right?**

**Have any of you ever been to a Comic Con? Let me know! Don't forget to review!**

**As always, I own nothing. But if I did… mwahahahahaha…**

"John I have been pondering this for many days now and, after eliminating all else, I have reached the impossible conclusion that I am in love with you."  
"That's nice Sherlock. I love you too."  
The consulting detective frowned, confused. "John, I think you misunderstood me just then. I said I am in love with you. I have deep romantically rooted sentiment towards you."  
The doctor just chuckled. "I understood you perfectly Sherlock. I said I love you too."  
Sherlock stood up, long coat billowing. "That's it? Just 'I love you too'? No sexual identity crisis? No leaving because I've made you uncomfortable? Not even—"  
"Honestly, it's like you want rejection. There's no sexual identity crisis, because I'm comfortable with my sexuality. Sexuality is a fluid thing, something I always thought was a little bit bs until Harry gave me the talk about it. I know I like your hair, perfect for running fingers through, your confidence, and your brilliance. That's also why I'm not leaving. Did you really not pick up on that? You, the great Sherlock Holmes, only consulting detective, not an amateur, genius since childhood, Sherlock Holmes, couldn't figure out I've been in love with you since practically the beginning?"  
Sherlock sniffed disdainfully. "Semantics. I at least expected a kiss from you."  
His love grinned wickedly. "Oh you'll get that and much more. Only if you deduce how much I love you though."  
Later, as Sherlock lay next to John in his bed he thought to himself  
_Why couldn't I have told him earlier?_

**See what I did there. With the "EVERY FUCKING CONFESSION FIC HAS THESE"? Did you see it?**

**Also, SUPER IMPORTANT!: Happy Esther Day everyone. I love you all and DFTBA.**


	10. War

**I think I just wrote a Red Pants Monday fic. Woah.**

**Hey, anyone have ideas for an easy costume for Comic Con this weekend? Apparently someone accompanying me wants to go as Buffy, and I want something that I can play off as casual outside the Con, but still dress up in.**

**And yes, this is my first. For Red Pants and Comic Con. **

**If I owned Sherlock, Moftiss wouldn't be sinking my ship with fucking Mary.**

It was all out war. Neither were sure how it started or how it would end, but the game was on.  
Sherlock would wear the purple shirt that for some reason made John less focused at crime scenes.  
John would then counter by wearing his red pants on the same days he coincidentally decided to pants that were a bit too loose. Also coincidentally the same days Sherlock was without a case.  
And on they went.  
Sherlock had been struggling to counter John's latest offensive (licking jam off of a spoon in a way that made Sherlock's fitted jeans feel a little more... fitted than usual) when he bumped into the doctor himself.  
"John," he said abruptly. "What are the rules?"  
John looked confused. "Rules to what?"  
The sharp-cheekboned consulting detective simply scoffed. "Oh please, you know what I'm talking about. You'd have to be twice as daft as you normally are not to."  
John turned a rosy red and avoided eye contact. "O-oh, right that." He managed to sputter out. "I suppose there are none."  
Sherlock grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Excellent!"  
He then proceeded to snog the living daylights out of his companion, bending down significantly to make up for the height discrepancy.  
When they eventually pulled apart, Sherlock dashed off, leaving John to stand in the middle of their flat frozen in shock.  
"Counter that, Watson." Sherlock muttered once he had safely made it to his room.

**Review, yeah?**


	11. StacheFaultCloset

Sherlock silently approached the occupied table where John sat alone, waiting for his date, some dull woman named Mary.

"John," Sherlock started, his voice breaking. "John, I'm home."

John looked up and gasped. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock gave him a once over and frowned. "John, what happened to you?"

John blushed, embarrassed. "I fell into depression after you left and since then my weight has been fluctuating-"

"No, not that. I meant to say 'What the actual fuck is that on your face?'!"

John frowned indignantly. "It's a moustache. Mary likes it and I needed something that didn't remind me of you."

Sherlock scoffed and looked down at his only friend, face stuck in a cross between disgust and mortification. "Listen, it's been nice seeing you again, but until you shave that fucking monstrosity off of your face, I'm not going back to the flat. See you around John." And with that, Sherlock turned and left the restaurant.

John sat in silence for a moment, and then whispered futilely after the consulting detective, "You don't understand... It was a mournstache."

**SURPRISE! That's not the real story for this week, it's just my reaction to the Sherlock S3 Trailer (spoiler alert)! **

**Comic Con was fantastic, even though the Weasley twins and Captain Jack weren't there on Thursday. I got posters for Doctor Who and Sherlock and a Fire Nation emblem necklace. I also got pictures with some awesome cosplayers, including an excellent Professor Utonium.**

**Unfortunately for you, you go from OOC Sherlock and my Comic Con happiness to angsty post-Reichenbach Sherlock.**

I didn't do it to save Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, or even you, John. I did it because I am, and have always been, selfish.  
Don't counter that with "Sherlock doesn't know social niceties" because we both know that's untrue. I've been aware of the polite behaviors and ignored them of my own selfishness.  
And now that same selfishness is eating away at you, consuming your wellbeing. For that I can never be cease to be sorry. The guilt is all mine; the fault not in our stars, but in me.  
I couldn't stand to see you dead, so I forced it on you to watch me die.  
I guess this means I'm not an emotionless machine, but you were right all those times you called me a selfish bastard.

**And because these are super short, I guess I'll give ya one more silly one. YOU BETTER REVIEW FOR THESE THOUGH! **

**And if I haven't mentioned it yet, I own nothing but my new Comic Con purchases.**

Sherlock huffed in frustration. He was a man of constant action, confined in one of the smallest places he'd ever been detained in. It had been hours since he entered the claustrophobia-inducing area and John still hasn't come home to find him.  
Something must have happened to John, Sherlock decided. I have mapped out his Friday schedule for the last three weeks and he's breaking pattern. Maybe I should text Mycroft? No, too risky, requires explanations and Mycroft would ruin the purpose of this entirely. I'll wait for either John's return or a call from either Lestrade or the kidnapper.  
After what felt like ages to the antsy consulting detective, but was in reality two minutes, John's footsteps could be heard echoing throughout the flat. Finally, they stopped when he reached his dresser.  
Relieved, Sherlock burst out from his hiding place in John's closet.  
"It's a metaphor!" He cried.  
John froze, turned to his flatmate, and promptly exploded into a fit of laughter.  
Sherlock sat on the floor, confused. "Why are you laughing? Do you have any idea how long I was in there?"  
This only served to make John laugh harder. "I'd guess thirty some odd years." Upon seeing Sherlock's pout he stopped laughing and bent down to hug him. "Now come on, I'll go make us some tea and work on finding an equally creative way to repeat this confession, even though I'm sure you already deduced it out of me."  
Sherlock stayed put. "I love you," he admitted, focusing on the floor.  
John pulled him up and smiled. "Like I said, you've probably already deduced my confession out of me."

**These are good dammit, review.**


	12. Return

**Hey lovelies! I don't have much of an update except that I became completely obsessed with Ouran High School Host Club. Yep. I've finally watched an anime. Now watch, as my life begins its downward spiral…**

**Anyways, here's the story. Remember, if I owned Sherlock, John's moustache wouldn't be a thing.**

"John, I'm back."  
John took a long look at the curly haired man standing in their, no, his, doorway. After a moment he turned to the kitchen and opened up the fridge, rearranging its contents.  
Sherlock watched this display and frowned. His hands automatically formed their prayer position and a sigh rolled out of his mouth, looking like smoke from a dragon's mouth in the frosty air. Apparently John had been trying to freeze himself in his depressed state.  
"What are you doing?"  
John laughed bitterly. "What's happened to you Sherlock? You used to be so observant. I'm clearing up some room in the fridge for your experiments."  
Sherlock stared for a moment, then crossed the room to pull his doctor into a tight embrace. Both men began to cry.  
"God I missed you," John choked. "I don't know how I manage this long without you."  
Sherlock in turn muttered his reason for leaving in John's ear as tears streamed down his face.  
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispered. "Never again, I promise."  
And there they stayed, locked in a death grip of longing and relief, until Mrs. Hudson found them and reached behind to shut the refrigerator door before bursting into tears herself.

**What? Just because I fell in love with a silly show doesn't mean you guys are getting off the hook.**

**Anyone got any recommendations for shows like Ouran? I finished ;(**

**Leave me a review.**


	13. Always

**I saw the City of Bones movie. They changed a lot I think, but I'd love to hear your opinion. I liked it still.**

**I own nothing. Not even THE MOST ROMANTIC WORD IN THE WORLD used un this chapter.**

**R&R & Have a nice day. **

"John, hey John, John, Johnny-John, John."  
Said army doctor just sighed at the drunk DI's behavior. "Yes, Greg?"  
"You're a, a teenage girlll. Did you know that?" The older man slurred heavily, lazily waving his drink in his hand.  
John knew there was no reasoning with someone this far wasted, so he humored his friend. "And how is that?"  
"Well," Lestrade started, sloshing more of his drink as he raised his hand to point at John. "You, you write diary entries about your celebrity crush and put themmm on the Internet for one."  
"It's called a blog Greg. And Sherlock is not my celebrity crush!"  
"He's a celebrity you'd like to bang. I thi-think that counts."  
John decided to ignore this. "Fine, go on then."  
"You wear necklaces."  
"For Christ's sake Lestrade! They are dog tags!"  
His drunk bully scoffed. "Same thing."  
At this point, more alcohol than Lestrade had actually consumed was splashed over the bar floor. His sober companion had decided he'd had enough drunken verbal abuse and called them both each a cab.  
When John reached the flat, he found Sherlock sitting on the sofa. He quickly maneuvered his way into a semi-comfortable snuggling position and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder.  
"You waited up for me?"  
"Well if you want to look at it that way-"  
"You waited up for me." Not a question.  
"Of course. I knew Lestrade would be getting extremely drunk tonight and thought you'd appreciate my company once you returned."  
John buried his head in the detective's curly hair. "How?"  
"Wife slept with Anderson. Imagine what knowing how low her standards are is doing to their already failing marriage."  
"Ah."  
They sat there for a few more minutes before Sherlock noticed John starting to drift off into sleep.  
"We should get you to bed."  
John responded by snuggling tighter. "Stay?"  
"John, your shoulder—"  
"Stay." Not a question.  
"Always." Sherlock whispered back, and soon both boys fell asleep in each other's arms on the sofa.


	14. I write AUs now, AUs are cool

**Hey, sorry about last week, I was busy all weekend. Going back to school is a pain.**

**What've I been doing other than massive amounts of homework? Well, I finished Rosario and Vampire, started and finished every episode of Fruits Basket… and I almost forgot about today while watching Soul Eater (which I also started today…).**

**What? Soul has a sexy voice, ok?**

**Anyway, this type of fic is my guilty pleasure, (even if they're usually the same). Write a good one for me and leave a review! Who knows, it might motivate me to write more –hint- -hint-**

**As usual, no one has gotten me Sherlock as an unbirthday present **

DI Lestrade was a good man. Not the most observant man, especially if you were to ask Sherlock Holmes, but a good man nonetheless. So naturally, he didn't pry when he saw a thin chain around the consulting detective's neck the first few times. However, not being observant means when you do observe something you usually wouldn't (a side effect of being around Sherlock so much), means you are likely to be very curious.  
Really, it was amazing Greg lasted as long as he did before he suddenly burst out, "What's that chain you've taken to wearing?"  
Sherlock looked up from the dead body (girl, mid-twenties, engaged, slit wrists) with an usually amused look on his face.  
"Really Detective Inspector? Asking about my personal life at a crime scene? What has New Scotland Yard come to?"  
Lestrade flushed, but pressed further. "Come on now, you probably solved this three minutes ago. What's the chain for?"  
Sherlock looked eerily distant and didn't reply. Finally the silence was broken by his cell phone ringing.  
"Hello? Mycroft what are you— John? Oh, God... Right away."  
Sherlock began rushing away from the crime scene.  
"Find the fiancé, I've got to go!" He yelled back at the confused Detective Inspector.

Sherlock didn't return any of Lestrade's calls for a full month. He tried to look for the consulting detective to make sure he hadn't relapsed, but every time he would receive a call from Mycroft telling him not to worry. When Sherlock finally got back in touch, he took the first case he was offered, though it was a four at best.  
When he arrived at the crime scene, Lestrade noticed something peculiar: Sherlock had brought someone with him. It was a man; short, blonde hair cut to military-regulation length, and— wait.  
Military.  
And for the first time Lestrade figured something out at a crime scene that he had called Sherlock to.  
Unfortunate it couldn't be about the death they were investigating, but he'd take it.  
Sherlock had been wearing dog tags.  
He walked over to let the two men into the crime scene, ignoring the protests of Sergant Donovan.  
"I take it you're what pulled Sherlock away a month ago."  
Noticing the two men's winces, he scrambled for a way to backpedal. Luckily, Sherlock's companion interrupted his frantic thoughts.  
"Yeah, sorry about that. I had been shot in Afghanistan."  
Lestrade used all of his self-control to not openly gape at this man. "Christ, that has to be the first time anyone's apologized for getting shot at."  
The man laughed and Lestrade thought he saw Sherlock's lips twitch into a smile for a fraction of a second.  
"Are we going to look at the crime scene then?" Sherlock asked.  
Lestrade's eyes flicked to the detective's companion.  
"I can just wait here while you solve this, 'Lock."  
Lestrade held in a surprised chuckle. 'Lock?  
Sherlock frowned. "Detective Inspector, John Watson here is an ex-army doctor. I'm sure his opinion on cause of death would be quite useful. He's certainly more competent than anyone in New Scotland Yard."  
Lestrade just laughed. "Alright, you can bring him in."  
The three trudged up a flight of stairs to view the crime scene.  
"Male, early thirties, smoker, gambler, recovering from a cold, left handed, recently got in a fight, from out of town, divorced. John, what do you see?"  
John stared at Sherlock. "Brilliant as usual."  
Sherlock smirked. "I meant the body."  
Wait. Sherlock had a sense of humor? Lestrade just shook his head. Who is this "John Watson" fellow?  
John coughed. "Right. Um..." He examined the body, poking and prodding before he stood back up. "Drowned then dumped here."  
Sherlock smiled warmly, a strange sight for the Detective Inspector. "Amazing."  
John just smiled back. "Not bad, huh? Maybe our next date will be something more exciting for you."  
Date? Lestrade's head was spinning.  
Sherlock laughed. "You agreed I got to pick our honeymoon activities! No backing out now."  
The two gave each other a look that people in love seem to always wear when near each other. Lestrade felt as if he was interrupting something very private when he asked, "It's a murder then?"  
The two jumped, having forgotten he was there.  
"Ah, yes. Arrest the girlfriend. Her name is Melanie. She goes by Mel though. You'll find her working in the pastry shop across the street. She should confess right away. Do you mind if we leave?"  
Lestrade shook his head. "As long as you explain this to me later, go for it."  
John laughed as he took his husband's hand. "Don't worry about that explanation Detective Inspector. The thing about genius is that it demands an audience."  
Apparently this was some inside joke because Lestrade could hear the couple's laughter echoing throughout the house as they exited.  
Sally Donovan watched them leave and snorted in disbelief. "I can't believe it. There actually is someone for everyone."  
Lestrade frowned. "Donovan, what are you still doing here? Go arrest the girlfriend Mel in the pastry shop across the street. Sherlock Holmes's personal life is not your division, remember?"


	15. 221B Detective St

**A little extra something to apologize for standing you up. Based on a tumblr post by anniephantom.**

**Canons always sink my ships, of course I don't own anything!**

**Leave me a review saying how much you missed my sense of humor?**

John and Sherlock were an unlikely pair.  
John was sturdy and reliable. He followed the recipes to a T and whatever you ordered from him had a consistently good quality.  
Sherlock on the other hand, was spontaneous and never listened to anyone's opinion, barring John's on occasion. He was always playing with strange spice combinations—"Sriracha in the banana bread? Really Sherlock?"— and blowing up the industrial kitchen in constant attempts to speed up cooking time by adjusting variables such as heat and pressure.  
Somehow though, when given a chance to work together, the two unlikely bakers of 221B Detective Street would always make the most fascinating and delicious pastries.  
And so, however unlikely they were, they stayed together. Even if they couldn't agree on the flavor palate of their wedding cake— "I refuse to have a red velvet cake with thyme in it Sherlock!"


	16. Jumper

**Shit, sorry, I have a crazy schedule now. Posting two tonight even though again I have a ton of homework. I love you all, thanks so much for still following.**

**I own nothing.**

John didn't notice one of his jumpers went missing after the Fall.  
He stopped noticing everything really. Everything except the pain. The dull, aching pain that felt like a slow stabbing with a twisting knife in the core of his being.  
Of course he wouldn't notice a missing jumper. He was too wrapped up in the first one.  
Sherlock was both disappointed and relieved that his faithful flatmate hadn't noticed the lost clothing article. If he had noticed, he would demand to go with the consulting detective on the near-impossible mission. While Sherlock would adore to be in John's company once again, that would make all his hard work pointless. He would only be putting John in a far more life threatening situation, one where a bullet to the head would be much more painless.  
So he comforted himself by stealing a jumper on the eve of his "death". In the night, he'd curl up next to it in his often dank, filthy hotel room, and just sniff it. It reminded him of 221 B, of milk and jam, of composing, of three patch problems, of tea, of not-housekeepers, of home, and of his blogger.  
His love.  
The jumper gave him a reason to stay alive.  
To come home.


	17. Another Proposal Fic

**Again, don't own anything.**

**R&R? I feel like quality is deteriorating. I dunno. Writing has been hard lately… **

"John, I'm going to propose to you now."  
John looked up from his paper and snorted. "Don't bother Sherlock."  
The curly haired consulting detective frowned, but remained on one knee. "Oh? You wouldn't be pleased? There's always one thing..."  
John laughed but quickly reassured his love. "No, you didn't read me wrong! I'd be over the moon- in fact, I am! It's just you proposing doesn't make any sense."  
Sherlock finally stood up, haughtily placing his hands on his hips. "And why is that?"  
"You're married to your work."  
"John, circumstances have altered! Besides, it's not like that'd actually be considered polygamy!"  
John chuckled once more. "Darling, I thought I was your work! Don't tell me you deleted out first date!"  
Sherlock looked back fondly on the time he said that, remembering the emotions that had swelled within him as he sat across from John at their seat at Angelo's. He'd been so desperate to convince John that they could be romantically successful without the work interfering, he'd told John that he was now the work; that he was the most important aspect.  
"No, I would never dare delete the second happiest day of my life."  
"Second happiest?" John raised an eyebrow.  
"The first is in a few seconds, when you say yes and I put this lovely gold ring on your finger."  
"Someone's feeling confident."  
"I'm always right when it comes to matters involving the work."


	18. If, Then

**This one is short, sorry. Serious shit has been going on with one of my friends whose ex is starting rumors about her. Low inspiration.**

**It's coming back though. I might not post next Saturday due to Homecoming, but I promise the inspiration is coming back.**

It is the basic principle of all science.  
If, then.  
If I get the milk, then John will see how much I care for him.  
If John sees how much I care for him, then he'll put two and two together to realize that I'm in love with him.  
If John realizes I'm in love with him, then he'll make his (obvious) feelings known.  
If he makes his feelings known, then I will have to be more amorous towards him to assure him his feelings are mutual.  
If I behave more amorously, then John will respond willingly.  
If John has this response, then I might ask him to stay with me forever.  
If I ask him to stay forever, then John will say yes because he will have grown to love me as I love him.  
If John says yes, then we will go through the archaic tradition of marriage to satisfy his traditional personality.  
Therefore, if I get the milk, then John and I will be married.  
It's simple logic.

**Reviews really help guys. They make me feel great on a tough day.**


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